In Limine
by lachlanrose
Summary: At the threshold. On a mission for Xavier, a random meeting between the wildest X-Man and a sharp lawyer with a Southern drawl sets fire to the night. W/R AU
1. A Prima Facie Case

**Title:** In Limine  
**Author:** lachlanrose  
**Disclaimer:** Still not mine. I object!  
**Feedback: **Yes, please! With a motion for summary judgement on top? The good. The bad. The ugly, welcome…  
**Summary:** At the threshold. On a mission for Xavier, a random meeting between the wildest X-Man and a sharp lawyer with a Southern drawl sets fire to the night. W/R AU  
**Author's notes: **I was curious about how things might play out between our resident surly badass if he was a firmly established member of the X-Men when he ran across an adult Marie who'd never known life at Xavier's. It's AU in that respect, but everyone's still mutants with their regular gifts. This Marie never hitched to Canada. She stayed in the deep South and poured herself into law school. Now her tongue's as deadly as her skin. Then again, Logan's never considered it a bad thing for a woman to know how to use her mouth… Heh. And yep, the usual warning applies. This fic is mature in theme and content. (Duh!) **You have been warned. **And of course, a big thanks to doctorg for the beta. She takes my crazy ramblings and makes them as presentable as they can be, given the content.

* * *

**In Limine **

Cold wet winter nights like this one were made for drinking. Unfortunately, Logan was doing his in a crowd at an upscale bar in Seattle that catered to the urbane professionals who filled this part of the city like so many ants. This particular night spot was the local watering hole preferred by the contact Xavier had sent him to find, hence his reluctant presence there tonight. The meeting wasn't until tomorrow, but even with his considerable gifts, Logan had never liked going into a situation like this blindly.

The majority of the offices nearby were devoted to insurance companies, with the usual accompanying plethora of legal professionals and a small smattering of financiers from the private sector. Hardly a shake-your-ass-to-a-good-Latin-beat sort of demographic. Probably not even a decent two-step in this crowd. It was the kind of place that served trendy cocktails at twenty bucks a pop and scotch older than most of the people back at the Xavier's school, teachers included.

Tossing back another overpriced drink, Logan looked over the room with a frown. The patrons largely reminded him of seagulls; a cacophony of gray and brown-clad individuals who'd cheerfully peck each other to death given the opportunity. As he ordered another round, the deep gray of his Armani jacket caught his eye and his lips twitched at the irony of it all. Despite the fact that he appeared just another gull in the flock, this wasn't his sort of place or his kind of people.

Or maybe they were? Maybe they too were caught living day to day without really knowing who or what they were.

It wasn't that he was melancholy or bitter so much as disturbed. He was... restless. Unsettled. And that was one place Logan didn't often tread. Since he'd woken up in the snow twenty-five years ago, he'd made a career of keeping himself so busy taking the assignments nobody else wanted that he didn't have time to entertain those kind of thoughts. He worked. Doggedly. Obsessively. He slept too little and fucked too much, rarely allowing himself to feel much of anything at all anymore.

They say some horses run better in a harness, but that had never been true of him. As far back as he could remember, he'd been a loner.

His mood grew blacker. He hated these assignments. He'd rather be sweating in the dirt or crawling through a jungle than wearing a suit in a place like this. Though he hadn't wanted to be there, Logan had become all but inured to these assignments over the years. The last thing he wanted to do tonight was sit around drinking overpriced alcohol and casing the place for possible weaknesses in preparation for the coming meeting, but he wouldn't be alone tomorrow. Xavier always sent them out in teams of two. Nobody healed the way he did. He wasn't going to risk Storm's safety just because he didn't like the prep work associated with these sorts of missions.

But even after he'd finished detailing the strengths and weaknesses of their chosen location, he'd stayed behind long after Storm had called it a night and gone back to her hotel. It had been a long time since he'd indulged himself, and it seemed illogical to turn back now when the summit was but a few drinks away. The clientele was a bit stiff for his tastes but the scotch was excellent, and frankly he couldn't be bothered to slog through the winter night in search of a more amenable place to contemplate the bottom of a glass. Though his outward appearance gave away little, internally he was aware he was fast approaching critical mass... and for once, he just didn't care.

Across the room, a svelte brunette in an austere Dior suit was losing an internal argument. Marie had specifically turned down her girlfriends' invitation to cruise the working class bars tonight - precisely because it had been too long since she'd been to bed with a _real _man. A thick, meaty man with calluses on his hands, who could go like a freight train and pound her into the mattress as if she were a rag doll; someone whose natural machismo made her feel feminine by comparison. She knew from experience there was little chance of finding such a man in this _chi-chi_ place, hence her presence there tonight. The men here were largely of the intellectual metrosexual variety. Sort of Niles Crane meets Chandler Bing.

Unfortunately, the man occupying the corner barstool was exactly the sort she'd hoped to avoid tonight. He was no limp-wristed pencil pusher with a fake tan and a 'Body by Bally's'. He was the real McCoy, a rare filet mignon in a sea of tofu burgers. His broad shoulders filled his immaculate suit and despite his sharp appearance, there was an unmistakable air of something wild and rugged about him. His hair was thick and unruly and he had heavy muttonchops. The stubble on his neck begged to be licked. In short, he was a wet dream come true. If that man ever rode a desk she'd eat her vintage handbag.

Marie was aware she wasn't the only one looking. He was no doubt responsible for the epidemic of wet panties in the house tonight. He was primal and magnetic, and appeared all the more attractive because he seemed completely oblivious to the effect he was having on the female patrons. Scratch that. A good portion of the men were eying him up as well, but so far none had dared approach him.

At least, he appeared oblivious until their eyes chanced to meet in the Tiffany mirror behind the bar. In an instant, his lazy bored look was replaced with a touch of pleasant surprise and a fiery heat that chased away the lingering chill of the night from her body and left her tingling and shifting against the rising tide of internal flutters. She actually felt her womb contract in response to nothing but the power of his gaze.

It was more than just the possibility of the blatant invitation in his eyes. He was dangerous. A man like him... he would have an interesting story, a history she couldn't ignore, some way of breaching her carefully constructed defenses... and that simply wouldn't do. Her heart wasn't open. Not anymore. Remy had broken that part of her. Carol had finished the job. She was the Rogue now in fact as well as name, touchable yet deadly - in and out of the courtroom.

Now, on the rare occasion she picked up a man, she kept her boundaries clear. A night or two of mutual fun and it was over. The man at the bar was infinitely more lethal because it was clear that behind that enigmatic hazel gaze was a brain even more dangerous than his powerful body.

And still, knowing the risks, she couldn't look away...

Logan was unprepared and a bit surprised by the blast of heat searing his brain and body as he returned the brunette's gaze. The woman whose eye he'd caught certainly wasn't shy. Slightly hesitant perhaps, but there was no mistaking her interest. Or her response. And he wasn't ashamed to admit that it felt damned good.

What was mildly disconcerting was the ferocity of his own response to _her_. She wasn't a damsel in distress or the sort of unusual eclectic spitfire that was apt to catch and hold his attention. She wasn't on the slutty side, or a redhead, or in need of a hero or any of the other things that usually made him look twice, and yet the chemistry between them was absolutely undeniable.

It certainly wasn't love at first sight. It wasn't even lust. It was something deeper. Some primal attraction, like a primitive switch flipped in his brain. In that instant, he wanted nothing more than to feel her under him, owned and claimed and belonging to him in every way. That was putting too nice a face on it, really. What he wanted most of all was to put his teeth on her neck, shove himself deep inside her and keep her filled until...

He shook that disturbing thought away, blaming the considerable quantity of alcohol he'd had tonight for the vehemence of his reaction to her. Since Mariko's death, he'd deliberately avoided emotional entanglements, preferring instead to indulge only in the physical. Surely it was nothing more than that? A passing interest fueled by booze and enhanced by the roiling turmoil of his emotional landscape. Nothing a night or two of passion wouldn't resolve. And lucky for him the woman in question seemed agreeable to the idea if the look in her eyes was any indication. Suddenly the night wasn't looking like a total waste after all.

Marie was the first to look away... but it wasn't long before they were back to openly eye-fucking each other in the glass behind the bar. So much so that he was glad he was alone. She was seated with a few women, colleagues presumably, and her sudden inattention was obvious - even more so as she made no effort to suppress it in any way. That boded well for him, but one by one they turned to look in his direction, uncomfortable and embarrassed by their companion's total disregard for social convention.

He liked her already.

He liked her even more when she got up and left them without so much as a single word. She was shorter than he'd expected. Not quite as tall as his shoulder, even in those wicked stilettos. Despite her small stature, she looked him right in the eye. A direct challenge. He liked that. She stopped in front of him, a charming mix of confidence and breathlessness. Her eyes were a clear, vivid green and her skin was pale, like cream. Both of which complimented her glossy dark hair. She had two exotic white streaks that framed her pretty face. They were unusual and striking. His fingers twitched with the unconscious desire to touch them.

He put his hand on her without even thinking, squeezing her slender waist in his thick fingers before they came to rest familiarly on the curve of her hip. A claim? Maybe. But the alcohol he'd consumed was certainly in the mix somewhere. He had the urge to bite her neck and barely restrained himself, settling instead for pulling her into the charged space between his spread knees. She smelled divine, like fresh snow, expensive perfume and warm aroused woman.

Marie shivered at the strength inherent in his simple touch and at the nearness of his big imposing body. His eyes were startling; a strange blend of gold and green and she could smell the faint scent of scotch as he breathed slowly in and out while he watched her watch him. His lashes were thick and dark and that seemed incongruous with the danger bleeding from him. His skin was flushed slightly, a sign he'd had more to drink than she previously realized and it suddenly excited her. What would such a man be like without inhibitions? It was a heady thought.

Rubbing a lock of her long shiny hair between his rough fingers, he waited for her to say something. He couldn't seem to keep his hands off of her. Maybe she'd slap him for being so forward. It wouldn't be the first time. He took a chance and rubbed her hair over his lips.

When she spoke, her voice was sweet and soft with a slow honeyed drawl he couldn't place. Texas? Georgia? "Shall we just go now, sugar?"

It wasn't so much a question as it was an affirmation she had correctly read his intent, and he hers. The finger she sensuously trailed down his forearm dispelled any lingering doubt he might have had about exactly where she wanted him to take her. And still, some small part of him was mildly annoyed that she hadn't let this play out in the typical fashion; the usual small talk over drinks, maybe a dance or two and then a subtle hint from him about a nightcap back at his hotel.

The larger part of him, however, was more than willing to accept her forwardness, even embrace it. His manhood was secure enough to let her call the shots, at least at first.

"I gotta car waitin'," he said without hesitation, glad for the first time for the extra layer of security Xavier insisted on for these sorts of missions.

Her response was nonverbal, a low sexy hum in the back of her throat and a slight shift in her body language that suggested deference without submission.

Interesting. Like most predators, he liked a puzzle to unravel.

He followed her out with a hand on her back. Marie was glad for his solid presence behind her. While certainly not a prude by any means, she was also not the sort to fall into bed with just anyone and her response to him frightened her and thrilled her at the same time. She could feel the electricity in his touch, and for once the proprietary gesture didn't rub her the wrong way. In fact, if anything, he was rubbing her in exactly the right way. By the time they reached his waiting car, her knees were weak and his hand was all but shaking as he casually, and with great satisfaction, relinquished the last of his restraint.

The short ride back to the hotel was a blur. The interior of the sedan was dark and womblike, almost oppressive. They were very aware of each other in the close confines of such a small enclosed space. It smelled of leather, of the fresh wet night clinging to their clothes, and of the heady promise of sex.

Aside from his gruff directions to the driver, neither of them spoke and they didn't touch. It was probably for the best. Once he got started, he didn't intend to stop and he preferred not to be arrested for indecent exposure, however tempted he was by the idea of her straddling him on the back seat. His lips twitched. Maybe once he'd burned away some of the crazy fire from his blood, they would have a proper conversation. He wanted to know more about the mystery woman at his side.

* * *

Up next: **Motion for Continuance**. An elevator. A hotel room. A night of uninhibited pleasure... and a wild encounter that isn't at all what either of them expected...


	2. Motion for Continuance

As Logan helped Marie from the car, she pressed something silky into his hand, her face carefully blank as she swept into the hotel with regal grace; not like a queen, like a lioness. She owned the space around her, golden and wild.

"Fuck," he muttered to himself, covertly tucking the scrap of lace into the deep pocket of his coat. He'd never even seen her slip them off. The tiny bit of lingerie was still warm and slightly damp. He swallowed a groan, fingering the fine material with one hand while pushing the elevator's call button with the other. As the doors swept closed behind him, the look she gave him could have blistered glass.

Usually on nights like this he felt like he was chasing prey. Tonight it felt like a game of cat and mouse played with an equal, and that was as disturbing as it was intriguing.

Logan shifted his weight as he waited for the elevator to reach his floor. He was a predator by nature. That he could not be still said a lot about his state of mind.

"They're still warm," he said, wondering what she'd make of that as he stepped closer to her inside the small, enclosed space. His teeth flashed as she shivered.

"Good."

God, that slow drawl crawled over his skin like honey, but her scent said she wasn't immune to him, either.

He watched her eyes flick to the little lighted numbers as they climbed higher. He took advantage of her inattention to admire her magnificent ass in the fine cut of her knee-length skirt and the way her indecently enticing shoes accentuated the graceful arch of her foot. Christ, her legs were hot as hell. And she had damned fine taste in shoes. It was the woman in them, however, that was really lighting his fire. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something about her was really doing it for him.

Still, she wasn't the only one who could play the provocateur. Tonight he wasn't dancing to any tune but his own. Her gaze shifted back to him and he let her see him looking. And wanting. Waiting until their eyes met again, he deliberately pulled the scrap of pale green silk out of his pocket, rubbing the soft fabric between his thick fingers. He enjoyed watching her eyes flare with surprise.

Her mind whirled. Surely he wasn't crass enough to...

But he did, crudely holding the exquisite fabric to his nose and inhaling her subtle fragrance with a devilish leer.

Marie's face flamed. Did he not know the rules of such a liaison or did he simply not care? What a thrilling prospect!

The warm musky scent tickled some primal place deep in his brain. A wild tingle of excitement raced under his skin. He moved faster than she could have imagined, pinning her there against the cold unyielding wall of the elevator, but instead of kissing her as she expected, he touched the silk of her panties to the inside of her wrist and then to the soft vulnerable hollow of her throat. His nose followed and then his tongue. It was wet and strong. Her insides turned to jelly. Marie shuddered and he backed off with a wry smile, tucking the lacy scrap back into his pocket as the elevator doors slid open with a soft _whoosh_.

"You taste even better than you smell, darlin'," he whispered into her hair before leading her out into the softly lit hallway.

The alcohol made him feel both pleasantly loose and less deft than usual as he fumbled momentarily with the keycard. A dark primal hunger was rising in him and his lust-soaked brain made him feel as if he was walking through thick honey. She was intoxicating and he couldn't think beyond anything but shoving himself inside her the moment the door closed behind them.

They fell on each other with feral intensity an instant after the tumblers tripped into place with a soft click. In moments his zipper was down and her skirt was up. Her full, red mouth rounded into a soft 'O' of appreciative surprise as his thick cock jutted up between them. He was big; blunt and heavy. And so impossibly _male._ Thick and throbbing, it was a showy testament to his virility. She watched a drop of fluid form at the tip and begin to slide down...

"Oh..." she breathed, the sound falling away on a hum of pleasure as he fit the wide head between her slick pouty folds and rubbed back and forth, crudely stimulating them both.

"Condom?" he growled against her throat.

"Pill," she gasped back as he rubbed against her just right. She was invulnerable to anything else.

That was all he needed to hear.

Catching her behind the knee and wrapping her leg around him, he bent his own knees and thrust upwards, pushing into her glossy heat.

"Christ," he groaned.

Marie saw stars. White lights were dancing in Logan's head. They both swayed. And he wasn't even all the way in yet.

He put his mouth to her ear. "Can you take a little more, baby?"

Her delicate skin was already stretched taut around him, but she wanted more of that sinfully extravagant pleasure. "More..." Her fingers clutched at his lapel before twining round his neck.

He didn't give her any time to prepare. Fitting both large hands under her shapely bottom, he lifted her into him and let gravity do the rest. A mutual groan of pleasure echoed loudly in the small foyer as she sank down in an impossibly slow slide that left her reeling. He was so thick. Her body struggled to accept his. The blunt pressure was sublime. He waited until she had slipped all the way down his cock before shoving in that final measure. That time she screamed. And then he did it again, just to hear that gratifying sound one more time.

Marie had never been so full. Not just between her legs, but everywhere. He was just so _much_. His primal physicality. The raw force of his personality. The unapologetic penetration. Everything. The sensation was painfully exquisite; pleasure and ecstasy and a deep burning stretch that filled a hidden need in some dark primitive place in her mind.

Logan felt invincible, poised on the edge of erotic violence. His mind might be fogged by lust but his heart was racing. Adrenaline-fueled arousal gave his formidable strength an almost brutal edge as he rocked her over him while continuing to thrust from beneath. He moved her easily, as if she weighed nothing. She felt feather-light in his arms, like dancing with a wisp of fog as her tight little body squeezed his cock with strong arrhythmic contractions.

It was shockingly good. And far too brief. She moaned into his mouth. He bit her lip. Her passionate cries and his deep grunts rose in a crescendo along with the crude wet slapping sounds as they spent themselves in a violent tempest against each other with a gush of slick fluid and a litany of shuddering sighs.

Still almost fully dressed, they stood there not two steps from the door catching their breath, she pierced deep by his body and he sweating and trembling from his exertions. They could both feel the hot splash of his orgasm, easing the friction of their sensitive, engorged flesh. It was startlingly intimate, perhaps the most vulnerable moment they'd yet shared. His big hand was rubbing the small of her back softly. She could feel him still twitching inside her and every so often, a deep shuddering aftershock would ripple through her, making his breath hitch as she compressed his over-stimulated flesh.

Impossibly, he seemed to be growing harder inside her instead of slipping out on the remains of their spent passion. She rubbed against him gently, rocking sensually against the wiry curls at his base. Her body ached, but the tide of pleasure was already beginning to rise once again. A languid smile touched her full lips.

"For a man who doesn't talk much, you certainly know how to break the ice, sugar." Above her flushed cheeks, her eyes danced merrily and they enjoyed a soft chuckle together while her delicate fingers tenderly smoothed back his damp, wild hair.

"Sweetheart, I'm just gettin' started." He was going to fuck her until he couldn't goddamn _move_.

What followed were several hours of some of the most uninhibited sex he could ever remember having. He was never that open with anyone. It had been raw and dirty and crude and... _fun_. And had he mentioned dirty? A veritable cornucopia of taboo carnal delights. There was just something about sex with a stranger that made it so easy to let go, to just be the sexual creature one tends to hide from a proper lover for fear of rejection or offending them with a kinky suggestion or dirty talk.

She was an engaging companion, sharp and witty and so comfortable with her body. It was clear she liked sex and was blessedly free of hang-ups, almost frighteningly so. He had never met anyone so at ease with sex, sexuality and all of the wickedly delicious things two people with open minds could think up to do to each other. And yet, he also got the sense this was something she didn't do often. He wasn't her first lover, but she had an innocence about her that wormed deeply under his skin. He'd never laughed in bed with a woman the way he had with her.

**~ooOoo~**

A long while later when indeed he could not _move_, just as he'd promised himself earlier, he was lying on his back smoking a cigar with his arm flung above his head while he contemplated the woman beside him.

She was smiling at him. "That was incredible...er..." It was at that moment that she realized she still didn't know his name.

"Lucky," he supplied helpfully, chuckling at his own bad joke.

Her smile widened as she stuck out her hand in greeting. "Well then, 'Lucky', I suppose that would make me 'Felicity'." _Felicity, the state of being joyously happy. A high degree of joyful bliss._ Well, that was certainly fitting. And also a bit disconcerting. She had already let him in far too deep and with the return of clarity, Marie was feeling the urge to bolt before she did something stupid. Like fall for him.

"Heh. Good one." He kissed her fingers softly. They smelled of sex and he smiled. "How can you even think after a ride that wild, darlin'?" He felt like he'd shot out his brain along with a gallon of come. Even with the healing, he was completely spent.

"Easy." She extracted her hand. "I'm a woman."

He groaned playfully and fell back against the pillows, thinking that he'd really like a few hours of sleep, some room service, and a mutual shower that became round two if he was lucky. He had plenty of time for that. He had a good sixteen hours before he was due to meet back up with Storm for their mission tonight. He was still contemplating round two when she slipped out of bed and began gathering her clothes, unconcerned with her nudity as she stooped and bent, plucking articles of her clothing from the odd places they'd landed in his haste to strip them off her.

And just that quickly, everything suddenly came to a screeching halt.

"You leavin' already?" He didn't like that one little bit.

Worse, she stopped mid-gather when the annoying chirp of a cell phone broke the strained silence. She paused to look at the display of a slick little phone he hadn't even realized she'd been carrying when they fell in the door.

"Leave the money on the nightstand when you go then, why dontcha." He muttered sourly, suddenly feeling used. It was a first for him, at least in this context.

She shrugged apologetically clutching the phone like a lifeline, grateful for the excuse to make her escape. "I have to take this... It's- it's work." Ignoring his rude snort of disapproval, she answered it directly.

"It's two in the fuckin' mornin'! What kind of goddamn work do you do?"

Marie was distracted. A manic new client with a heavy brogue was shouting gibberish in one ear while her aggravated bedmate was griping in the other. "Lawyer," she finally managed by covering the receiver while simultaneously hopping about trying to put on her shoes.

That knocked him back so hard it was impossible to enjoy the view as she bent to retrieve something lacy from under the table. "International law?" he inquired hopefully. That might explain a call at this time of the morning.

She shook her head while fastening her bra.

"Corporate?" Less hopeful this time. He was annoyed enough that it didn't even matter to him that he might be interrupting a sensitive conversation. Who took fucking calls in the middle of the night? Besides men like him, of course...he thought ruefully.

She shook her head again, slipping her skirt up over her slender hips.

"Contracts?" A heavy feeling was developing in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with the massive quantity of alcohol that he'd consumed earlier. His unique metabolism had burned through most of that already. He was entirely too sober at the moment.

"Sort of..." Marie paused, buttoning up her suit jacket over her silky blouse before uncovering the receiver once more. 'Lucky' was starting to annoy her. She was nodding along, making little sounds of affirmation as the caller continued to rattle on.

"Christ, just tell me. It's too fuckin' late for twenty questions, honey." He rolled over with a huff, yanking the covers up over his nakedness. He was feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable and he didn't much care for it.

She didn't need to tell him, though. He already knew the answer. There was only one reason she'd be so coy. He'd bet every last dime that she was a divorce lawyer. He shuddered, remembering the barracuda Jean had hired for their divorce shortly before he escaped to Japan. Now there was a bitch of the first water. No wonder the woman in his bed tonight had been so uninhibited. She probably didn't have a conscience or a soul at all, he thought uncharitably. He could just imagine her sitting there cold and calculating, using that sharp mind of her to tear some poor bastard to shreds for daring to love the wrong woman. That thought suddenly hit a little too close to home.

Covering the phone one last time she slipped in, "Family law," while the client on the line took a much needed breath. She'd been waiting on his call. Sure, it was inopportune, but when children and allegations of abuse were being thrown around, a few hours could make a world of difference.

So she _was_ a divorce lawyer. He _knew_ it.

Logan was still pissed, but he couldn't help but be impressed at how quickly and how artfully 'Felicity' had managed to restore her appearance. She was hardly as fresh as when they fell in the door, but she no longer had that 'I've-just-been-fucked-within-an-inch-of-my-life' look that he had been admiring earlier.

Her cheeks were flushed and her skirt was a bit worse for the wear, but she somehow managed to twist the tumbled mass of curls back up on her head in a smooth artful sweep and secured it with a few clips from her handbag. When she slipped into her stylish knee-length winter coat and refastened the earring he'd bitten off earlier, you'd never know what she'd just been doing.

Except for the touch of beard burn on her throat. Well, that and the fact that she absolutely reeked of him, a primal thought that couldn't help but make him smile despite his displeasure at his present circumstances. There was something about his most intimate scent all over her that just seemed so terrifyingly _right…_ and that was profoundly disturbing.

He watched with interest as she scrawled something on a piece of hotel stationary. A note with her card tucked inside? Maybe things weren't as bad as he'd imagined, though he doubted it. She had piqued his curiosity yet again as she tucked the note into his hand and slipped out the door with her cell on her ear and an apologetic smile on her full, red lips. Lips that had been over every inch of his body. His cock twitched. His heart did, too.

**~ooOoo~ **

Marie made it to the elevator before collapsing against the wall with a silent sigh. It had taken real effort to leave a man like that behind. She couldn't quite congratulate herself, however, while feeling that she'd somehow made a horrible mistake... but it was done.

Over.

She didn't know his name and she wasn't coming back. Her heart was still safe behind the impenetrable wall she'd built around it; a thought that amused her considering he'd managed to penetrate her in practically every other way possible. It seemed she'd left just in the nick of time. If there was ever a man made to ferret out the chinks in a woman's armor... but then she'd always liked living on the edge.

Not that he'd seemed so interested after she'd told him what she did, however. Men always got the wrong impression and she encouraged it. In truth, now that she'd made a name for herself, she only took male clients. She had her own reasons for that, but none she'd ever cared to share with anyone outside her immediate family.

Stepping out into the foggy night, Marie slipped into a waiting cab with a small wince of pain as her overused muscles protested, but there was a satisfied smile on her lips. She'd never been so satiated. Pressing a hand against her middle to quell the riotous feelings inside, she took a deep clarifying breath and tried to let the night pass into memory. She had work to do. The man on the line needed a lawyer badly. And lucky for him, she was a damned good one.

Back upstairs, Logan's black mood had returned. Were things so fucking bad that he couldn't even get a one night stand right anymore? Of all people, he picked a fucking divorce lawyer? He supposed he was lucky to have been left with his balls intact. But despite it all, she had gotten under his skin, though he wasn't quite sure how or why. Still, he couldn't bring himself to be truly furious. At least not at her. He _had _enjoyed himself and the sex had been fucking amazing. It was hard to decide if he was more upset at her or himself.

For too long he hadn't given a damn, but the woman he'd met tonight had begun to change that. He frowned. Tonight he had been treated by a woman like he'd been treating them for as long as he could remember, and he found he didn't much like it.

It was a different sort of anger smoldering in him now than there had been before. He was aware of the change and though he knew the cause, he hadn't yet identified the effect or even what exactly had shifted. He was dangerous now and his brief encounter with the mystery woman tonight had only raised the bar. She'd presented a challenge - something he needed - even if he was unaware of it at the moment. He hadn't quite yet put the pieces together, but he would in time. His sharp mind would turn it all over and over until the pieces fit, until he had the answer, a direction, a course of action... and maybe even a small sliver of peace.

But at the moment, he was stewing in his own juices. He sat up and thumped the headboard, smoking ominously, her note crushed in his fist. It wasn't her card or her number. Smoothing out the rumpled paper, he read the note again, taking an aggressive drag off the cigar as his eyes followed her feminine, loopy scrawl.

_Lucky—_

_You should be bronzed! I've never had a night like that in my life. I'll always remember it – and you – very fondly. And for the love of God, if you have a girlfriend or, heaven forbid, a wife... take the evidence out of your coat pocket before you get home._

_XOXO  
__M_

Logan shook his head. Evidence? Fucking lawyers!

She could keep her advice.

He was definitely keeping the 'evidence'.

She might have run but she'd made a serious miscalculation there. Those streaks in her hair were too distinctive to go unnoticed. After the mission was over, he intended to find her before the marks he'd put on her had even faded from her creamy skin.

M?

There was another puzzle for him to unravel.

He wanted answers and he'd damn well have them. He wanted her name. And he wanted to give her his... and then hear her gasp it against his throat.

This wasn't over. She could run, but she couldn't hide. The Wolverine never forgot a scent.

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Feedback is love! :)

Author's note: _This will not become a series. This will not become a series. This will not become a series._ Say it with me now before the bunnies take over permanently! lol You guys rock. Thanks for all the feedback, PM's and comments. I love knowing what y'all think... though you'd be surprised how often a bit of stray feedback inspires a whole truckload of new bunnies. It's downright dangerous, I tell ya!

Up next…. Just in time for Halloween… something dark, disturbing, and dirty as all hell. Don't let the mention of an OC scare ya off here. She's just a means to a (naughty) end. Heh.

**In Pride's Shadow  
**Monstrous dark things live in the shadows and the Wolverine is the darkest of them all. Marie works behind the bar. A certain cage fighter has caught her eye... AU. Dark. W/R W/OC (Marie POV)

After that…. lots of stuff in the pipeline:

**A Work of Heart  
**Logan comes back from Japan to find a very different Marie than he remembers. Chalk. Ink. Gouache. Watercolor. A young artist reveals a man's heart, one colorful stroke at a time. W/R

**Sanctuary**  
A girl alone on a snowy road needs a ride. She offers up the only thing she has of value to trade: herself. An alternative look at how Rogue's first meeting with the Wolverine might have gone if she'd had to talk her way into his truck instead of hiding in his trailer. W/R AU

**Shine Against Me  
**Logan and Marie and talk about pornography… and then things get crazy. _20+ chapters (and counting!)_

**Walk the Line  
**Marie comes back after taking the Cure. "She'd always defend him though, even now – powerless and helpless, and they both knew it. It didn't even need saying. The care of this beautiful man was written in her bones."  
_9ish chapters (and counting)_

**Fine Art  
**After being on her own for several years, Marie returns to the mansion. Things get painted. Sparks fly. AU  
_(5 chapters. Unfinished, but y'all said you wanted to see it anyway!)_

I've also been getting a lot of questions about Holding Ground II. It's still at least six months out. Sorry! It's currently on the back burner. Doctorg (my beta) says she's refusing to read anything else until I write her more of Shine Against Me. (There's a teensy, tiny chance I might have left Logan and Marie alone in an elevator at a sex club while I took a few months off to finish writing Run). Heh. Onward!

Certifiable… as always!


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